


We are what's left behind

by Wikkid



Series: Dead and back again - A Teen Wolf tale [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 10:13:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wikkid/pseuds/Wikkid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A scene with the parents after the trio are submerged at the end of 3x11 - Alpha Pact</p>
            </blockquote>





	We are what's left behind

They say a mother _knows_ when her child's in danger. When something bad, something terrible has happened to them. That bond that began in utero is never fully disconnected, even though the cord's been cut. Stiles didn't have a mother to feel for him anymore, but his father felt that pang in his chest, a hollow feeling in his gut when his son slipped away from the world. 

Jennifer had come back down to check on her charges, dribbling water into their mouths and making sure that Chris hadn't found a way to break free of his bonds. He was the one she'd have to keep an eye on. It was the sheriff that gave her the insight into something happening before she felt it herself. The broken look on his face, the way he tried to hunch over, all with a confused and fearful expression on his face. Like he knew. Melissa was next, then Chris, all three parents' eyes filled with fear that quickly turned into a rage as they fought that much harder to break free. Melissa screamed, mouth open and a loud, wailing cry leaving her as she pulled and strained at her ropes. Chris' glare was tempered by his tears, but it wasn't any the less rage filled and promising of death than if his eyes had been dry. The sheriff struggled more against himself than to get out and get his hands on Jennifer, realizing that his lack of belief, his inability to _listen_ had gotten his son killed. He hoped he was wrong, hoped it was just some bad foreboding he could ignore, but the look on Jennifer's face told him the truth. 

She had her hands spread wide, head back and a rapturous expression on her face, looking up at the tangle of roots and almost laughing as she reached up to touch them. "They did it. They woke it." She looked down at the three parents, a look of almost sympathy on her face. "It should have been you. It was _supposed_ to be you, but they found a way to take your place. I take it back," she said, looking at Chris, " _That_ was a sacrifice." 

Jennifer moved past the kicking legs, missing being hit by inches as she made her way over to the stairs. "For what it's worth, I _am_ sorry. It really should have been you." Then she moved up the ladder, closing the door behind her. She called out before it fell shut, "I'll make sure you're freed after. It's best you stay there for now. You'll only get yourselves killed otherwise."

Then she was gone and the three stared at each other with dawning horror and grief as it sunk in. Dead. They were dead. Their only children, their only piece of themselves in the world were gone. Chris continued to struggle, to try to wear the ropes out with friction against the post. His wrists were bloodied and he barely noticed, silent tears falling as he continued. The other two didn't bother telling him to stop. They couldn't. They were both so wrapped up in their own grief. Melissa, remembering back to that week she hadn't been able to look at him. When she'd been afraid of him. She'd been terrified of her own son and he'd never called her on it. He'd let her come to it in her own time. God, how had her own son been more grown up during this than she had? She wanted to cling to that little bit of hope, that what he was now, that part of him that wasn't human would keep him alive. That this was just... wrong. But if that crazy bitch had been behind the killings, if it was all part of the sacrificial train, that meant he'd had to _die_ to pull it off. Her son was dead and there was a hole in her that she'd never be able to fill again.

The sheriff was just staring down at his hands, tears falling freely as he remembered the last thing he'd said to Stiles. How the last thing he'd said had been so hurtful. He'd seen it in his eyes before he'd turned to leave. He'd known it had hurt when Stiles had said the last thing he'd ever willingly say to him. He never mentioned his mother to him. Neither of them did, barring that one time he barely remembered. He felt too much guilt over not being there for either of them. For Claudia, to hold her hand and watch her slip away. For Stiles, to let him know he wasn't going to be alone, that he was still safe. Instead, he'd been doing his job. His job that trained him to ignore everything Stiles had been saying was true. Fact, logic, science. Those were what he was supposed to rely on. Stiles was the one into the black and white monster movies and magic and things that he could only roll his eyes at. Only he couldn't anymore. Not when he'd seen his son's best friend turn into something... not human. Not when he'd had _that face_ pressed against his before winding up here. Not when he could swear he'd felt Stiles' life being ripped from his chest. He couldn't ignore it anymore and it was too late. He was too late. Again. If he got out of here, all he'd have to remember his son by would be the cold body he'd have to identify. Pictures scattered around the house that he'd put away because it would be too painful to look at them and remember all the things he'd said that he wished to hell he could take back. 

He'd take it all back if he could just have his son back. But it was too late, so he was left watching the tears pool on his limp hands while he listened to Melissa's almost silent sobbing and Chris' rage-fueled attempt to break himself free. There was nothing to do but wait. Wait and see if she freed them to live out the rest of their lives in pain, or if she kept them down there and let them find a way to join them. Tick, tock.


End file.
